


GQMF or How Zachary Quinto found Livejournal

by 1lostone



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: But Zach is a bigger dork. :D, Chris is sort of a dork., M/M, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, What Was I Thinking?, gqmf, ontd_pinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much says it on the tin. Repost from 2009</p>
            </blockquote>





	GQMF or How Zachary Quinto found Livejournal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yesterday_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesterday_Girl/gifts).



> Sadly, this whole fic is an anachronism, but I was asked to repost (you really don't have to be anon. I won't bite!!) so here ya go. Some things to remember, _this was my first Pinto fanfiction_ so try to ignore the more cringe-worthy bits. I was going to edit it so my more mature and serious me (ha) but ultimately decided 'eh, fuck it' and rolled with it. 
> 
> If you never used livejournal, or if you missed the craziness that was an ontd_startrek or ontd_pinto party post, I'm not sure if this is going to make much sense. 
> 
> Orig written as a bday fic for **Yesterday_Girl** , and beta'd by **gryffin_draco**.

 

* * *

 

 ******2009**

 

The irony was if Chris hadn’t set the damn things up for him, he never would have known.

“Isn’t it sort of narcissistic?” Zach had been staring at his inbox with something approaching awe. It was legal cyberstalking. Wild.

“Right. Because acting isn’t about narcissism at _all_.” The flash of grin was startling against the backdrop of bruise makeup. “Besides. I think it’s just smart to keep track of what people are saying about you.”

Chris had patted the laptop’s screen almost fondly before walking off and helping himself to a water from the small fridge. “I’ve got ‘em set up to just email you once a day- otherwise you’d be like, slammed with all kinds of random shit.” His voice was muffled from the refrigerator.  “Just you wait. It’s awesome.”

Zach raised an eyebrow.

And that was how he found out about Google Alerts.

And _that_ was when everything went pear-shaped.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t really thinking very clearly when he checked his email.  Honestly, the human body was not made to be in so many time zones in such a short period.  Zach was about sixty percent sure that he had left his laptop cord somewhere in France. When the little battery icon popped up he couldn’t help but glare at it as though it were personally responsible for the hangover, lack of sleep and extremely funky taste in his mouth. He sighed and signed into his mail.

            **_Pinto- Zach/Chris.  ‘In Which Zachary finds proof that Chris is not selective about the company he keeps.’_**

_Wait. What?_

He had clicked before his tired brain could even process what he had read.  His eyebrows jumped into his hairline when he realized that this was a story written about him and Chris. _Together._

Well. That was just, erm.  Some person had taken the time to write - he quickly scrolled past the word count (5421) and disclaimer (This is made up. I am not making any money from this work of fiction.) and on to the - porn.

Zach’s mouth opened in shock. 

 _Zach whined a little with pure, heated_ need _as he felt Chris’s fingers inside of him. There was a  quick, wet thrust and he could feel the younger man’s fingers scissoring, widening him, preparing his entrance. Zach huffed out a breath, grasping the back of the couch with his long, elegant fingers, pushing back a little against the fingers as he felt the burning heat of the head of Chris’s cock, stretching him just a bit..._

“Hey! Whatcha doin’?”

Zach gave a little ‘eep!’ of surprise,  gasped,  and slammed the lid of the laptop shut, looking around quickly as Chris slid into the seat next to him.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. Just …checking my email.”  His voice absolutely did not squeak. He was pretty sure that he drooled on himself a little.

“Sorry, man.” Chris also looked a little worse for wear. The _after_ after party had been rather spectacular, after all. “ You can just call me God though. Jesus is so bourgeoisie.  Speaking of,  I think my left eyeball is going to twitch out of my head. Do you have any aspirin?”

Zach oh-so-casually put the porny laptop of pervy doom in its case, rummaging in one of the zippered pockets for some Advil, striking up a conversation as though he hadn’t just been reading about…Well, better not to think about it. 

Much.

 

* * *

 

Zach had gotten home and slithered into bed, fully prepared to sleep for at least a week and a half. He hadn’t even gotten Noah and Harold from the sitter’s before toeing off his sneakers and falling face down onto his mattress.  On the bed were his extremely fluffy pillows, smelling of his very own fabric softener and laundry detergent. He had a long overdue appointment to spend some quality time with them.

When he woke up, he even managed to slide back into his normal routine. They had a few days of downtime before they were scheduled to begin the US round of interviews and television spots. He started with his morning yoga, returned a lot of calls, managed to answer some business emails, checked in with his agent and ordered some books on Amazon… all without doing anything untoward.

That lasted for about two hours, then curiosity got the better of him and he Googled ‘Pinto.’

Pinto. Seriously? That was about as bad as ‘Sylar’s Army’ which became SArmy and always made him think of the word ‘Smarmy’.  He was not _oily_. He used copious amount of very expensive grooming products to make sure of that fact.

Of course, his ‘army’ probably wasn’t aware of the decidedly weird places his brain often took him. Not that he minded having a fan club, because hello, it was just about the most fucking awesome thing in a great big world of shiny awesome things but the name made his ears bleed. Brad and Angelina get ‘Brangelina’ and he gets something named after a _legume_? Actually, now that he thought about it, his brother's first car had been a pinto.  Clearly Quintine didn’t have the same aesthetic appeal.

The first hit was something called [**ontd_startrek**](http://ontd-startrek.livejournal.com/) . He smirked a little to see the picture of his cast mates looking so intensely into the camera.  It was a blog, then.

The first entry was titled GQMF SNL BBs!!!!

_REMINDER THAT THOSE HOT GQMFS THAT ARE PINTO WILL BE ON SNL ON SATURDAY! PUNCH IT!!!!_

Apparently capslock and exclamation points were the drug of choice for rampant fangirlism.  Fanboysim? He wasn’t sure what a GQMF was though. Groovy Quiet Malicious Fanboys? Gratuitously Queer Movie Fans?  Greatly Quixotic Man Fans?  He had no idea. Zach opened up a different tab and tried typing it into Urban Dictionary.

[ **_GQMF_ ** ](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=GQMF)

_An acronym for "GQ mother fucker," referring to actors that are physically attractive enough to grace the cover of GQ magazine. The internet has decided that GQMF refers specifically to the lead actors in Star Trek: 2009 (Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto, aka ZQMF)._

Zach decided as he sat there, spinning his desk chair a little with his foot and trying not to preen that the Internet was a glorious, glorious place _._

_The term is ubiquitous at the livejournal community ontd_startrek, where it has now become a means of referring to the members of that community, despite the statistical improbability that any of those people are even close to GQMF status._

_SIF: Look at my photos from the Fresno ontd_startrek meetup! What a bunch of GQMFs!_

_Response: If I wanted to look at pictures of a normie I would go on facebook._

_Correct usage: Did you see the new Captain Fine walking post? What a GQMF! UNF!!_

Zach found himself making a sound that was somewhere between a snort, a horrified gasp, a smirk and a chuckle.  He quickly used the dictionary to translate- ZQMF (Zachary Quinto MotherFucker) and UNF (Universal Noise for Fucking).

He switched back to livejournal. Once he saw that he couldn’t comment without logging in, he went to create an account. Within minutes he had his own sign in and icon, then spent the next three hours reading through posts.

He could now use sparkly text.

He could understand macros.

Partyposts actually made him laugh out loud. (or, LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111!!!!)

He understood the gifstory to be one of the last true works of modern art.

And, oh ohmyjesus, the _fanfiction._

There was a sister community called [**pinto_fic**](http://pinto-fic.livejournal.com/)  and after a few clicks Zach had quickly figured out that he was pretty much going to hell.  He would be Satan’s flunky, helping other sinners get comfy in their new digs.

But he couldn't. Stop. Reading.

He did have one little (okay extremely small. And he pretty much gave it up the first time he read "Chris" giving "Zach" a particularly descriptive blowjob) hiccup of conscience at reading porn about one of his closest, and extremely straight, friends, but he figured that what Chris didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

It was a strange dichotomy to find himself fluctuating between laughing his ass off at crack and humor fics and appreciating the occasional angsty turn of phrase. People even had a kink meme where they could ask for any sort of random situation, and an author would write it for them. Anonymously. 

Jesus Lord _._ If he had half of this stuff in his sex life, he’d be acting while in traction. He was pretty limber, but not even _he_ could bend in quite that many ways.  It was quite distracting.  He was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever need regular porn again.

Unfortunately he couldn’t spend the day immersed in fanfiction. He had to go get his babies (his brain actually _saw_ the letters 'bbs'), meet with his brother and hit the store to pick up some of Harold’s special food- mundane activities that seemed all the more special after the whirlwind of interviews, foreign countries and hotel rooms. Thank god _Heroes_ wasn’t shooting for another month or he would probably have to curl up in a ball somewhere and die pitifully.

Zach shut his laptop and toed on his shoes then grabbed his keys and wallet from the table by the door He swung it open and started to jog out to his car, almost bowling Chris – standing there with one hand raised to knock– over in the process. Zach had just a moment to appreciate the feeling of his body sliding against Chris’s before the younger man had grabbed his biceps, steadying them both.

“Ahhhh…. Ow. Je-su _s_!”

“Shit! Sorry, man.” Chris let go of Zach’s arms and took an awkward step back. “I tried to call first, but you didn’t answer. I was just seeing if you wanted to go for a jog or something later.”

Zach was still trying to shake himself out of the body-memory of Chris flush against him.  He took another step back. “Oh. Right. My phone. I was just heading out. Sorry, man. Getting a late start.  I tell you what, you can hang out here for a bit if you want. It shouldn’t take me much more than an hour.”

Was it his imagination or did Chris look a little forlorn?

“Yeah, I can find something to read, drink my coffee. You sure you don’t mind? I kinda feel like I just showed up here out of the blue.”

“Of course not,” Zach smiled. “But I really do need to go get Noah and Harold. You could come with if you wanted.”

“Nah, I think I’ll be good here.”

“Well, if you’re sure?  I’ll be back in a bit. Mi casa es su casa and all that.” He watched as Chris made himself at home on Zach’s couch, bunching up one of the small pillows and stretching his long legs out over the arms of the couch.  He already had the remote in his hand and was flipping through channels.

Zach had to physically check to make sure his mouth wasn’t hanging open or anything.  He had a good imagination - a fucking stellar imagination- but he was not going to picture himself going over there and slowly bending over Chris’s head as he sprawled on his couch.

He huffed out a little breath, turned on his heel and left, repeating 'Fanfiction is not reality. Fanfiction is _NOT_ reality' under his breath as he slid into his car and backed out of the garage.

 

* * *

 

It had taken him closer to an hour and a half to get back.

Noah had just about done himself injury doing little doggy jumps of joy when he heard Zach’s car pull up. Harold, who was far more stately and secure in his feline sense of superiority, swiped at his fingers when he tried to convince him to go into the hated cat carrier.  It took Joe’s help to get him in the damn thing. Harold then proceeded to ignore Zach for the entire trip back to his place.

Noah just grinned at every random tree, person, car, and shrubbery that he saw, the wind from the slightly rolled down window fluffing the fur on his doggy face as he communicated that all was right in the world.

It took some maneuvering to hang on to Harold’s carrier, Noah’s leash, the two bags of groceries and the container of cat litter, but he managed,  bumping the door of the car shut with his hip. “Hey! Chris, can you get the door? My hands are full with all this crap.”  Noah gave him slightly offended look under his bushy eyebrows. “Chris?”

He set down Harold and the cat litter and tried the door handle, finding it locked.

Oh. Chris must have left already.  Zach tried to tell himself that he wasn’t bummed at the prospect. He unlocked the door, hung up Noah’s leash, crossing into his kitchen to set the bags on the counter. Noah went off on a sniffing spree and disappeared into the back of the house while  Zach went back to rescue Harold from the Carrier of Doom. He put away his groceries and grabbed a soda out of the fridge before walking into his living room.  He stretched out on his couch (so what if he had assumed the same position that he last saw Chris in? It was _his_ couch!) and reached for the remote. His gaze was caught by a bright piece of paper on top of his laptop.

            _Zach,_

_Sorry. Something came up. Will catch you later @ Zoe’s thing._

_C-_

Oh yeah.

He flopped back onto his couch, sighing. Hearing this, Noah came into the living room and turned in two circles before plopping down between Zach and the coffee table.  He had thought about not going- enjoying his night of solitude and basically being a bum on the couch, but supposed he would have to make an appearance. Right now, he was comfortable, he was home, and if he turned his face just a little into his couch cushions, he could still smell the lingering scent of Chris’s aftershave.

 

* * *

 

Zach sat at a crowed table in the back of the club trying to hear a conversation over the pulsing lights and pounding music. He, Anton, Zoe, and Karl had all scrunched into the tiny space and were discussing the most embarrassing interview questions they’d ever been asked while on the junket. Anton was making a point-his hands flailing as he talked.  The others had to occasionally dart in and rescue their drinks from imminent spillage. Zach was watching Karl watch the other two argue and was amused as hell. He could only hear every third word or so, despite the shouted conversation and waving hands. The only thing Zach could discern was that they were either discussing Thai food, sporks, JJ Abrams, or the sexual proclivities of sheep. (Or possibly the sexual proclivities off JJ Abrams, which was just creepy and weird.)

Karl cocked an eyebrow and looked over to Zach, grinning.

The One Eyebrow had the power to render even the most stoic woman (or man) into a spontaneous orgasm so powerful the kinetic energy _alone_ could power a third-world nation for several decades*.

Zach twitched at the memory of eyebrows. His own fingers moved to smooth over his own, much less cool eyebrows which had finally, _finally_ grown back. Yes, he was man enough to admit that he did have eyebrow envy.

“You’re looking a little alone there, Quinto. Lost your mate?”

Zach shifted, looking away from The One Eyebrow to peer over Karl’s shoulder one more time out into the club.

“I didn’t lose him. He’ll be around eventually.”

Zach told himself that no, he wasn’t actually pouting.

“Oh he’s around. Check him out!  Unnnf!” Zoe leaned over, and gestured towards the dance floor.

Zach’s eyes narrowed. “Did you just ….”  He turned and immediately forgot what he was saying. He also forgot other things such as higher motor function and how to breathe.

Chris was indeed on the dance floor, but Zach wasn’t sure if what he was doing could technically be called _dancing_. Hell, it probably wasn’t even legal in at least three states. He was dressed in one of his white t-shirts that did nothing to hide his physique while the jeans he was wearing looked like they had been painted on. Every time he threw his hands into the air the shirt hiked up, leaving a gleaming stripe of skin.  He was fluid, contained sex that seemed to magnetize every woman (and several of the men) on the floor. He had his arm around someone, moving behind her so sinfully, so perfectly that Zach had this strange desire to go stab her with her own stiletto.

Then Chris looked up, right at Zach’s slightly flushed face, the intensity of his blue gaze slicing across everyone else on the floor.

Zach was conscious of the little sound he made when Chris’s lips hovered over the girl’s neck, whispering something in her ear that caused her body to jerk in reaction; however, he couldn’t force himself to blink away from Chris’s eyes until the younger man broke eye contact.

He gulped his drink down as though he hadn’t had liquid in weeks, not even feeling the punch of the alcohol as it hit his system. No way did that just happen. It was just in his head. It had to have been.

_Fanfiction is not reality. Fanfiction is not reality. Fanfiction is not-_

“Hey, guys. One of these drinks for me?”

Chris leaned over the space, grinning as he snagged the rest of Karl’s beer, drinking it quickly and sliding into the seat next to Zach who was forced to scoot over or get a lapful of Chris Pine (a prospect which, while terrifying, still had its merits- at least until the other man felt just how hard he was and punched him into the middle of next week).  He sat there rigidly, almost painfully aware that his left side was flush against the right side of Chris from his thigh all the way up his torso. Chris’s body was so hot that Zach felt like he was being branded. Their elbows battled for dominance for a moment before Chris finally just stretched out his arm along the back of the seat as Zach leaned forward and clutched at his empty glass with both hands.

A waitress came by and refilled everyone’s drinks.  Zach felt out of his element. He wasn’t very responsive to everyone’s attempts to draw him into the conversation (which he still couldn’t quite hear), still uncomfortably aware of Chris sitting next to him.

_See? This is God punishing you for being a pervert. You will go to perverted hell. Where you will burn. Pervertedly._

When Chris leaned over and spoke in his ear, Zach almost dropped his glass.

“Hey, you want to get out of here? Come on.” His voice seemed lower than normal. The puffs of his breath caused Zach to suppress a shiver. Chris didn’t give him a chance to respond, but pulled him by the wrist. “You want to dance? Or leave? You looked like you weren’t having any fun just sitting there, man. We have to fix that! Bye guys!” He wiggled a few fingers at his friends, who barely noticed the two men leave, except for the sudden table space. Chris started to pull him towards the dance floor, but Zach resisted, gently breaking Chris’s grip on his wrist.

“Nah. I … guess I’m still jet lagged or something. I think I’m just going to head home.”

“It’s 11:40. What are you, eighty?” Chris ran a hand through his hair, stepping into Zach’s space so that he could be heard over the din of the club.

Zach swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “If you still want to do something tomorrow, give me a call. I’ll talk to you later!”

“Oh. Okay.”

Zach practically fled the club, sliding into his car, trying to get his heartrate under control. It was a full ten minutes before he could make himself drive.

***

_“Hey, you want to get out of here? Come on.”_

_“Yeah. You want to go to my place?”_

_“No.” He leaned forward and nipped Zack’s earlobe, running his tongue across the shell of his ear, loving the strangled moan the other man made in the back of his throat. “I don’t think I can wait that long.” With that, he took another step forward pushing him against the wall with his body, hands coming to rest on the other man’s hips. With a tilt and a grind, he bent down to kiss his neck, licking at the skin he found there…_

His phone rang. Zach blinked at it stupidly for a moment, still lost in the imagery from the story he was reading.  It was so real. Freakishly real, as though someone had been inside his head thinking of what he would have said if he hadn’t decided to go home and if Chris was, well, actually _gay_.

He reached it right before it went to voicemail and actually had to close his eyes when he heard Chris’s amused voice in his ear.

“Took you long enough. What are you up to?”

“Ah. Just.. reading. Some stuff. Boring, really.”

“Oh, It sounds like you’re out of breath.”

Oh _God_. “Not at all. You decided not to go out?” Chris’s laugh actually made his body tighten further.

“Yeah. Kinda over that for now. Besides, we fly to New York in a couple days. I’m sort of liking the way I can just veg out here on the couch.”

“Yes. It is.. relaxing.” Zach made a fist with his hands so that he would not undo his jeans and start jerking off. Damn his imagination. Damn whoever wrote that story. He should find her (him?)  and send a sten note.

“Yeah. So hey, I’m watching you on tv! Whoohoo, big sex scene with Kristen.” Chris lowered his voice. “Wow, look at you…”

Zach paled completely and then flushed bright red.  Zach could hear him breathing on the phone. “Uh, Chris, are you…watching me have sex? Even more importantly, did you actually just say ‘whoohoo’? ”

“Yep!”  The voice was cheerful and unrepentant.

“That is strangely disturbing.” Zach felt hot, then cold. He remembered the scene very well, having had a crazy fit of the giggles with Kristen as soon as they stopped shooting the result of which was them making Horrible Porn Faces at each other for at least three hours after they wrapped.

“Hey, I’m taking notes.  Did you have a closed set? ‘Cuz it seemed like everyone in the damn movie was standing around watching me have pretend sex with Rachel. Only she wasn’t as naked as Kristen there. Wow. You’re really going to town.”

“Going to town? Really? It’s astounding that you ever managed to lose your virginity, with such a vocabulary.”

“Oh, come on. The girls love it.” There was a pause. “So do the boys, come to think of it. It’s not quite ‘Hey your eyes twinkle like a cow’s ass, let’s fuck’ but it will do in an emergency.”

Zach’s hand tightened on his phone.

“Boys, Christopher?” He couldn’t help that his voice deepened a little. He knew that Chris was just joking around, but he couldn’t have stopped the words from coming out of his mouth if he tried. His cock, unaware that Chris was just being is weird flirty self, hardened even further. Zach palmed himself once, roughly, and couldn’t hide the quick intake of breath. God, he hoped it couldn’t be heard over the phone. The quick action caused him to slide his hand back over his stomach and turn over on the couch, manfully trying to ignore his arousal. He was not going to do this. He wasn't. He was. no... oh _hell_. He rubbed himself against the couch, the friction from the denim sending little shivers down his spine.

There was a snort and a chuckle from the other end of the phone. “Okay, you’re right. That does kind of make me feel like a creeper. Star Trek is on channel nine! You want to watch?”

"Sure." The sound was a little breathier than normal. He carefully moved the phone, muffling his face in the crock of his elbow. Carefully not thinking about too much of anything, Zach unzipped himself with his other hand, and started to touch himself directly, still occasionally moving against the couch.

Chris  was talking a mile a minute, laughing at the cheesy special effects, wondering if there would be serious shirt damage in future films, worrying over appearing live on Saturday Night, worrying about the flight over, jumping from topic to topic as it occurred to him. Zach tuned him out- answering when asked a direct question but mostly just listening to the meandering tone of Chris's voice, the actual words unimportant.  Zach came hard, muffling his quickened breaths in his arm. He lay there for a minute with his heart beating steadily, then sat up, reaching over to the end table for some tissues.  He switched the channel to the Star Trek episode and was able to stretch back out on his couch, watching lazily. Chris was in the middle of telling him some story about being caught in a bathroom at a convention by two Klingons and someone dressed as a Tribble. 

Zach fell asleep with a slight smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

_Zach sighed into the phone as he listened to the other man’s guttural moans. He was trying not to breathe too heavily, not wanting to cover up the sound. Zach could hear the fleshy sound of Chris’s hands on himself, as the palm of his hand stroked over his cock._

_“Tell me what you’re doing.”_

_“I.. I –c-can’t… ohfuck it’s too…”_

_“You can. Are you imagining my hand, Christopher? My mouth? What I can do to you, how hard I can make you come when I suck your cock?’_

_There was an even more strangled sound, and the sharp sound of skin …_

“Hey!”

“JESUS! Would you quit sneaking up on me like that?” Zach slammed the lid of his laptop closed.

Chris looked offended. “I didn’t _sneak_ up on you. You were just totally absorbed in whatever you were doing on your laptop. Sorry!” Chris got up and moved to another seat, several rows back.

_Oh, that was nice, Quinto. Really smooth. It’s not his fault that you’re going crazy._

He tried to shake off the weird feeling of déjà vu as he put the laptop away and stretched his airplane seat back, moving his messenger bag so that he wouldn’t scare off any passing flight crew with the size of his erection. This trip was shaping up to be a disaster. It was just the two of them flying out. They wouldn’t be there very long - two days total - before flying back to LA, but Zach had been dreading this trip so much that it seemed a lot longer. He was jumpy and nervous. Chris had just assumed that it was because he was a fan of Saturday Night Live and had been trying to be extremely kind about his nerves, joking that, as he was the one that did a show for the same studio, Zach would probably be fine.

Chris had been more touchy-feely than normal, brushing up against Zach at the airport and again in the early part of the plane trip.  Zach had gotten another Google alert for one of his favorite authors and had been trying to read it quickly before Chris got back from the bathroom. He sighed. He was being horrible to Chris, who clearly had no idea what he was doing to him. It was very childish behavior. He knew it was childish, but couldn’t seem to help himself.

Zach groaned pressed the heels of his hands onto his eyes for a moment.

There was the sound of a throat clearing and Zach squinted up at the throat's owner. Chris stood there with a curiously blank look on his face. “The stewardess said I had to take my seat.”

“Ah. I believe they’re called flight attendants not 'stewardess'.”

Chris sat down, lips quirking slightly in a grin. “Drinks technicians?”

The flight attendant, passing by with pillows for one of the other travelers tossed Chris a look that was vaguely reminiscent of someone who had just belched in front of the Pope.

“Nice. I don’t think you’ll be getting any in-flight extras this time.”

Chris was too busy trying to sink into his seat and blushing to answer. And, really, was it fair that the man even looked adorable when he blushed?

“Hey, I’m really sorry I snapped at you.” Zach tried to smile again, but it fell quite a bit flat.

“Yeah, I am too. You’re banned from all douche-like behavior for the rest of our trip.”

“Trip? You make it sound like we’re going to the Poconos for a weekend getaway.”

Chris just wiggled his eyebrows. “So’s long as we get matching speedos. Hey, what were you reading on your laptop that was so interesting? When we first met you used to bitch all the time about having to use a computer to email people, now it’s like you’re hooked into it, Neo style.”

Zach inwardly cringed. He didn’t want to lie to Chris, but the alternative would get him fifteen versions of awkward wrapped up in a giant bouquet of asskickery. Not that Chris would do something like that (okay, Zach was pretty sure) but he didn’t want to fuck around with fate. They were good together as friends, and Zach found himself unwilling to change the status quo when the result would be (this time he was certain) the absolute death of anything resembling the easiness they had with each other.

“Um, porn.”

Chris blinked, his hand coming up to his face to hide his sudden, face-splitting grin, then drifting down back to his armrest.

Zach assumed a lofty look. “Yes, Christopher. I understand that you believe me to be above such plebeian needs but I do occasionally need wank material.”

There was a strangled sound from the man beside him.  He could clearly see Chris’s lips form the words ‘wank material’.

Zach tried to channel his inner Urban and cocked an eyebrow. He lowered his voice, leaning into Chris’s space to whisper, “Feeding the beast? Riding the Disco Stick? Pulling the Pipe? Steaming the teakettle?”

“Oh god, please stop.” Chris’s facial features were working comically, as he tried not to burst out laughing in the crowded first-class cabin.

“Milking my man-meat? Whipping up some sour cream? Auditioning my finger puppets? Battling with the purple-headed warrior of looove?” Zach leaned back over to his own chair and nonchalantly flipped through a _Skymall_ magazine. “Oh look. The neater feeder. Noah would love this.”

Chris tried to turn his laugh into a cough, but the sound was still raucously loud in the small space. The other first- class passengers gave him varying degrees of dirty looks. “Oh my god, I hate you. Did you really just say man meat?!  I’m going to be hearing you saying that the next time I  jer…uh. ”

Zach smirked, keeping the swooping feeling in his stomach produced by Chris’s words (and the mental image) off his face with the pure force of will.

Gee, he _was_ good at this acting thing after all.

 

* * *

 

“You can’t possibly be that much of a masochist.” Nimoy’s grin was inherent in his words, although he kept his face completely blank.  “You’re bringing up the _Pon Farr_? Willingly? You do realize this is the group of fans that invented Fanfiction.”

“I think it will be hilarious.”

Nimoy shook his head, still grinning. “You have the internet on that phone, right?”

Chris tried to raise an eyebrow, but couldn’t manage to raise just one. “Yeah. Why?”

“You should Google _Pon Farr._ Just to see what happens.”

Zach, who considered himself pretty much an expert on _Pon Farr_ thanks to his recent obsession, fought to keep his face blank. That damn déjà vu again. Clearly he was in an alternate reality where Leonard Nimoy mentioned fanfiction and joked about _Pon Farr_.  Somewhere an angel had just gotten its wings. Zach mentally shook his head. It was just so weird! He had [ just read a fanfic](http://the-deep-magic.livejournal.com/10233.html) where Chris was told to go Google the same thing _._  The story was actually completely hilarious. He even had it meme _…_

 _Oh damn. Fanfiction is not reality. Fanfiction is_ **_not_ ** _reality. Get a grip, Quinto._

“Ah... that’s okay. I can imagine. But I still think we should bring it up. I’m telling you- it would be hilarious.”

Nimoy gave him a look that plainly said ’It’s your funeral’ and went off to find something to drink. They did a quick run-through of the scene, and it didn’t matter how many times he had read over the scene notes (It wasn’t really scripted as much as they were encouraged to adlib), [it still cracked him the fuck up to hear Leonard Nimoy call someone a dickhead](http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/update-feature-star-trek/n12503). He knew it was coming and still had to fight to keep a straight face during the first take. The wardrobe people wanted them to change their clothes, saying they were dressing too alike. Zach looked down at his plaid shirt, and over at Chris’s grey shirt.  It occurred to Zach that they did sort of have a matching outfit thing going for them. Most of the European interviews consisted of one or both of them wearing grey or black. He shrugged. Chris vetoed the suggestion, proclaiming that this was his lucky jacket and he didn’t think he could let it go.

There was a flurry of hundreds of little details that had to be addressed before they were seated in their rolling chairs and taking their marks.

Then they were on, and there were no more chances to be nervous.

“ _We’ve gone to great lengths to assure this film fits in flawlessly with the established canon.  And our movie takes the time to explore the origins of the Kulinar ceremony, as it is connected to the_ fascinating _Pon Farr marriage ritual_.”

He couldn’t help the little grin he had at mentioning  _Pon Farr_ , knowing that most of the fandom would get a kick out of hearing “new” Spock acknowledge the concept that launched a thousand fanfics. Poor Chris kept trying not to burst out laughing during most of the scene, having to bite the inside of his mouth to keep cool. Zach found himself trying not to look Chris in the eye at all, afraid that he would lose what composure he had as well. He was pretty sure he made eye contact a few times anyway. He couldn’t seem to help himself.

Then it was over and people were slapping them on the back, telling them how funny they were.

“So that was Saturday Night, huh?”  Chris seemed a little bemused by the whole process. In the green room, he made himself a cup of coffee, wincing a little at the bitter taste before taking a grateful gulp.

“Aww, that’s so cute. Were you nervous, princess?”

“Maybe a little.”  Chris didn’t return the banter, looking down at his coffee cup. “I just didn’t want this to go badly. I wanted it to be funny, and just, not suck.” Chris did have this weird ability to be nervous _after_ interviews, constantly second-guessing what he had said. Even so, he usually didn’t come down this quickly.  Zach took a step closer. It wasn’t often that Chris turned this serious.

“Why are you worried now? It was a take. We did it with just one dry run practice. I would say that’s awesome.  That one guy, what’s his name… Andy said that most people have to have all sorts of run-throughs. Of course, it does help that we’re completely sober.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, looking around at the post-show revelry. "We may be the only ones."

Chris smiled at this. He looked up over his coffee and all at once Zach was completely caught by his gaze. He could not move; all he could see was blue. Chris seemed to be affected the same way because when Zach nervously licked his lips, Chris’s gaze flicked to his tongue, quickly darting back up to Zach’s eyes as though to check his reaction.  Chris’s lips parted slightly, the soft puff of air on Zach’s suddenly too-hot face surprised him into jerking his head back.

Oh Jesus. He had almost kissed Chris!  He took a step back and turned it into another, trying to be casual and failing miserably. “I, ah, think I’ll just go. Um, to the hotel. Goodnight!”

He spared a quick glance up at Chris, who hadn’t moved. His knuckles might have been slightly tighter on the cup of coffee, but he showed no sign otherwise of the sudden panic that Zach was experiencing. He tossed a goofy wave over his shoulder and practically ran out of the studio.

It wasn’t until he had left the cab and shakily inserted his key into the key slot in his hotel room that it occurred to Zach that _Chris_ had almost kissed _him_.

 

* * *

 

The knock on the door didn’t surprise him. It should have, maybe, but it didn’t. Zach was laying on the bed, his jacket flung off to the side, shoes and socks tossed in the little walkway between the bed and the television.  He had been laying there on the bed with his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, trying to...well, he wasn’t exactly sure what he hoped to accomplish, actually.

He had run through a few scenarios in his head where he apologized to Chris, a few more where he threw caution to the wind and kissed him like he had wanted hundreds of times in the past year and a half, but ultimately, he just laid there, staring up at the small crack in the ceiling.

When the knock came again, a little louder this time, he sighed and rolled off the bed, padding over to the door in his bare feet.

“I’m not going away.” Even muffled as they were through the door, Chris’s words made him shiver.

That was the crux of the problem. He _wouldn’t_ go away. In a business based on image and falseness, the idea that they could have connected so solidly - becoming such good enough friends that they could finish each other’s sentences half of the time- was unheard of. People just had a different view of friends in LA. People wanted something from you: they wanted to use you to get ahead, to get known or to get seen. It was a friendship based on doing favors for one another, instead of just being, well, _friends_.

Zach sighed.

It wasn’t like that for him and Chris, and that was what scared the shit out of him. He had come to rely on that friendship, on seeing Chris and being able to call him when he needed to vent, or be silly, or get his opinion about something. He loved when they argued politics or literature, or just hung out partying with the other Trek cast.  It was his own fault for letting that friendship develop into something more.

He reached out and undid the chain on the door, opening it and standing aside for Chris to enter.

Chris was carrying a messenger bag. He had also ditched his jacket and exchanged his shoes for flip-flops.  Chris didn’t say hello. He crossed to the small dining table and sat down, rummaging in his bag and coming up with a computer. Zach felt like an idiot standing in front of the door.

“Um, hi?”

“Yeah. I’ll be with you in a moment. I just need to do something.”

“Ohhh-kay.”

Zach ran his fingers through his hair, nervously. It was a strange sort of irony that he had chosen to work in a business that used words in thousands of different ways but could not decide on a good way to open up the conversation. 'Okay' was about the best he could come up with.

The silence was so awkward and uncomfortable, Zach seriously thought about going downstairs. He had even taken a step towards the door with this in mind, before Chris spoke from behind his laptop, fingers busily clicking away. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll be done in a second.”

Zach watched Chris type from across the room. The little sounds of his fingers on the keyboard seemed to fill the space. Zach perched on his bed, sitting cross-legged and unconsciously trying to calm himself with some of his yoga breathing.  “So, ah, you missed the cast party?”

“Yeah. Okay, that should do it. Check your email.”

Zach blinked, looking at Chris like he had spoken a new sort of language. “What?”

“I said, check your email.” Chris sat back in the chair, tapping his fingers on the surface of the table. Zach’s eyebrows wrinkled as he stared at him. If he didn’t know better, he would say that his friend looked nervous.

“I’m not…I mean...I don’t know if I should do that now. Maybe we need to…talk?”  Where was his ability to _speak_? This was ridiculous. If he had been anyone else he would be laughing at them right now.

Chris sighed. “Zach. Just check your email, man.”

He unwound his legs from his lotus position and leaned over the other side of the bed, stretching out to where he had left his laptop earlier in the day from when they had checked in. He hadn’t been interested in reading after the _Saturday Night Live_ take, and it had gone into sleep mode. It didn’t take him very long to get the machine working again. He crossed his legs and set the laptop on his lap, hunching his long body over in order to type.  He only had one email. It was a notification that he had a message in his livejournal inbox.

“I don’t see anything.”

Chris was staring at him suddenly, his blue gaze intense. “Yes, you do. Check your email.”

Zach had the strangest urge to laugh. He clicked the link instead.

_“Why are you worried now? It was a take. We did it with just one dry run practice. I would say that’s awesome.  That one guy, what’s his name… Andy said that most people have to have all sorts of run-throughs. Of course, it does help that we’re completely sober.” Zach looked around the room with a little smirk. "We may be the only ones."_

_Chris couldn’t help but notice the way his friend licked his lips a little nervously. His heart was pounding with nervousness. He couldn’t believe it. He was about to do it. He was gonna…was gonna…._

_He leaned forward just the slightest bit, slowly. He couldn’t help gasping as he saw Zach’s beautiful eyes widening with surprise and darkening with arousal. Chris was completely unprepared to have his friend jerk back as though burned, practically turn on his heel and run out of the busy studio. His face flushed with shame. Oh **fuck**.  He had just screwed up, big time. _

_Chris said his goodbyes, mindful of the need to be polite and do some damage control for his friend’s hasty exit. It was the least he could do after freaking him out to the point of having him actually scuttling away. He made some excuses, apologized a few more times and walked to the hotel, mind whirling with some way to fix this. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been mistaken. Zach sometimes seemed completely into him, but other times so standoffish that it made Chris worry that he was utterly misreading his own feelings. He walked faster to the hotel, wanting only to see Zach, to explain…_

Zach kept his gaze on the computer for a full two minutes after he had finished reading. He slowly closed the lid and set it to the side. Resting his palms on his thighs, he took a deep breath. To his own ears, Zach’s voice was slightly strained when he was able to speak. “I don’t know whether to scream or jump y-“

But Chris was already there, practically leaping over the chair to almost tackle Zach, pushing him back onto the bed with his own warm body.

“Yeah. So you kind of fail at the whole ‘obvious’ thing. I did everything but hire Anton to come over and sing you a telegram.”

Zach was looking up into his face, mouths so close that he could feel the puff of each, separate burst of air as Chris spoke, his laughing mouth only inches away.

“Hey, Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you shut the fuck up and kiss me?”

A quick gleam of teeth was his only answer. Chris’s mouth hovered over Zachary’s for the barest of instants before their lips touched for the first time. Zach smiled into the kiss, tongue flicking out to meet Chris’s as they kissed again, then harder, pressing together closer and closer until they were sharing each other’s breaths, licking into each other’s mouths, kissing with such passion that either could have easily been bruised if the other wasn’t so intent on pleasure.

Zach’s hands were under the material of Chris’s shirt, stroking his long fingers up his back, greedily looking for more heat. He moved his hands back down, stroking over Chris’s hips and over the cheeks of his ass, unable to stop himself from squeezing through the denim.

Chris moaned a little in the back of his throat, tilting his hips into Zach’s thigh. Zach gasped at the contact, pulling his mouth away from Chris’s with effort. They stared at each other for a moment, and even with this, there was a hint of amusement just under the surface, as though it had the potential to be the funniest damn thing ever.  Something they would joke about later. Chris stroked down Zach’s shoulders, down his arms, over his elbows and down further to his wrists, linking their fingers together and stretching them out over Zach’s head. He started to kiss him again, holding Zach firmly so that he couldn’t move his hands.

“You’re going,” Chris kissed over Zach's chin, licking the side of his jaw and biting down gently, “to have to,” Light kisses over his neck, a sharp burst of pain on his collarbone that had Zach’s eyes almost rolling back in his head, “stop touching me.” Zach bit his lip.  “Otherwise this will be over,” Chris switched his grip so that he had one hand free to undo the buttons on Zach’s shirt, “way too damn quickly.”

Zach arched up when Chris latched his mouth over his nipple, flicking his tongue over the small pebbled surface until Zach was gasping his name.

“ _Fuck_. Chris, I need…”

Fortunately Chris seemed to understand, letting go of Zach’s wrists and moving down so that he could rub his cheek over the bulge in Zach’s jeans.  Zach braced his feet against the mattress and moved up a little so that he could undo his belt buckle. Chris’s slightly nervous smile as he batted Zach’s hands away was the sexiest thing that Zach had ever seen. Chris bit his lip a little and looked at him up the length of his body.

Zach had to blink a few times to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. He watched as Chris's hands undid the button and zip, sliding the zipper down slowly. They both held their breath, listening to the way drawn out sound in the almost silent room. Their fingers curled together again as they pushed Zach’s jeans down.

Chris paused again, looking at Zach’s cock encased in the fabric of his boxers.

Zach was eighty percent sure actually saying this would kill him, but he didn’t want Chris rushing into anything he wasn’t totally comfortable with. “You sure about this?”

“Am I sure I want my mouth on you?” The timbre of his voice lowered. “Am I sure that I want to know what you taste like, how hot you feel against my tongue?” Chris bent down and mouthed over the bulge, still trapped in the cotton. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

Zach had forgotten how to breathe after the first question.

Chris quickly pulled down Zach’s underwear and ran his fingers over the length of his cock, tips lightly ghosting over the skin there. He moved his hand so that he was gripping the base and lapped at the head with his tongue, flicking it against the skin until he could move down over it, sucking strongly enough that his cheeks hollowed.

Zach cried out, hands moving to grip Chris’s hair. Encouraged, Chris moved further down, then up, licking around the underside, pressing against the vein with his tongue, moving it up to lick around the ridge, then suck down, moving his fist in an alternating rhythm so it was though he were jacking Zack into his mouth while he bobbed up and down.

“Chris...wait I’m - fuck _where_ did you learn - Jesus _stop_ or I’m going to,” Incoherent and gasping, Zach wasn’t fully sure that he was actually speaking in English or some weird language made up only of syllables.

Chris moved off of him with a faint ‘pop’ of sound. Zach groaned again, yanking him up and bending in half so that he could kiss him, tongues tangling together. Zach moved his hands so that he was cupping Chris’s jaw.

“I want you inside me.”

Chris’s eyes fluttered shut, opening again with a look so intense that Zach had to tighten his hands a little to ground himself in the moment. “Yeah, God, yeah I want that.”

They kissed again, drawing apart reluctantly to finish removing their clothes. Their mouths met again passionately, almost feeding off each other, as though neither could bear to be apart any longer than it took to get completely naked.

Zach leaned into the kiss, reaching down and touching Chris’s cock for the first time, squeezing it gently, moving slowly up and down as he lay back onto the pillows. Chris was panting lightly, moving his hands over Zach’s body, resting on his hips, stroking over his thighs.

“Wait.”

Zach had to listen to the echo in his head for a moment to make sure that he actually heard Chris right.

“I don’t have anything, um, protection. Or lube. Don’t you need lube?”

Zach blinked - so close to coming that he spoke without actually thinking about the words. “What do you mean 'don't you need lube?' Of course you need lube!  Wait, what do you mean, you don’t have anything? They always have supplies ready in fanficti…erm.” He shut his mouth so quickly that he was lucky that he didn’t bite his tongue off in the process. He cringed, squeezing his eyes shut.

Zach could feel the fucker laughing silently beside him.

“Um, Zach?” Chris had to break off, snickering under his breath, trying to muffle his laughs in Zach’s shoulder. “Repeat after me. Fanfiction…. Is not…Reality.”

Zach’s eyes narrowed and he moved his hand so that Chris was closer to him, wiggling down and aligning their bodies. He took himself in his other hand, and twisted so that he could grip both of their cocks together.

Chris stopped laughing rather abruptly as he felt his cock slide against Zach’s. He made a strangled sound against the flesh of Zach’s shoulder, sliding his hands under him in order to roll them over so Zach was on top. They moved their legs so that they tangled together. Zach heard a muffled thump and realized it was his laptop hitting the floor.

“I thought that would shut you up,” Zach muttered, still sure that he was blushing hard enough to put off actual heat.

“I...godohfuckohyeah Zach that feels…” Chris moved his hand so that it was over Zach’s, both of them stroking together. The wetness from Chris’s earlier ministrations was providing just enough slickness as it mixed with their precome that the friction their hands produced quickly made both of their moans quicken. Zach stretched up his neck to kiss Chris, rather desperately, wanting to be closer to him, needing him inside him in some way. They moved their hands in sync, adding a twisting upstroke, sliding down to the base and back up so they were both moaning with each movement of their joined hands.

Zach felt Chris’s body tense and pulled away from his mouth to watch him come, knowing that he would never forget the sight of Chris flushed with passion for _him_. The view tipped Zach over the edge. He was conscious of the way he was whispering Chris’s name over and over as light exploded behind his eyes.

He collapsed on top of Chris, completely spent, and barely had enough energy to reach out for one of their discarded shirts, cleaning both of them off rather haphazardly.

“I think you killed me.”

“Hm…Well, no. I don’t think so. We have time still to make the cast party if you’re in need of a pick-me-up. Let me show off the GQMF?”

Chris’s neck turned so quickly, one of his vertebra popped. His eyes were almost comically wide. He moved his hands so that they were around Zach’s back, pulling him closer to him, gaze turning faintly mutinous. “You’re not going _anywhere_.”

Zach held a straight face for approximately three seconds before laughing, snuggling up against Chris and kissing his jaw. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

 

 

The end!

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The fic linked in this story is obviously [ the_deep_magic ](http://the-deep-magic.livejournal.com/)'s [ You Had Me At Pon Farr ](http://the-deep-magic.livejournal.com/10233.html), which as far as I'm concerned is required reading for all self-respecting fans. Go. Read it. :D
> 
> * * *


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